


you broke down my doors and walked right in

by jessahmewren



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Fluff, Food Sex, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Mutual Pining, Rimming, Spanking, Sugar Daddy Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Tease, Will Graham's dad is trying his best, Will is fifteen then sixteen, Young Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: Fifteen year-old Will Graham needs somewhere to go after school.  Enter Hannibal Lecter, part-time school psychologist and more than willing to lend a hand.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 34
Kudos: 328





	you broke down my doors and walked right in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarnivalMirai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnivalMirai/gifts).



> This grew from a little blurb on Twitter to something much bigger. For CarnivalMirai who asked for more. Please mind the tags and I hope you enjoy!

-0-0-0-

“It’s only a few hours after school, Willy.” Beaux Graham ruffled Will’s hair, and Will immediately jerked away from the touch. “The school bus just doesn’t come this far out.” 

Will shrugged his shoulders, toeing the ground with his Converse sneakers. A scowl creased his otherwise smooth, youthful face. “I can stay after school, dad. Just until you get there.” 

Will’s dad shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulder’s hunched. Tiredly, he took his cap off and ran a hand through his dark hair. Although well into his fifties, his father hadn’t greyed much.

“And stay where?” Beaux Graham piped up. He tapped his hand on the scarred linoleum of their small kitchen table. “They close the school at 4pm, Willy. No kids allowed on campus.” 

Will lifted his head, suddenly hopeful. “I can stay at the library, Dad. I know the librarian, Mrs. Metzger. She likes me. I always turn my books in on time.” His voice was high, almost desperate, and alarm blazed in his piercing blue eyes. “Dad, for Christ’s sake I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Beaux narrowed his eyes. “You watch your mouth son. Don’t invoke the Lord’s name ‘less it’s in prayer. You hear me?” 

Will chewed the corner of his thumb. “Yessir,” he mumbled miserably. 

“And this ain’t no babysitter,” Beaux continued. “He’s a nice man. A doctor. A real society fellow. He can teach you things your old dad here can’t.” 

Will frowned around his thumb, thinking of switching hands because the cuticle had started to tear. “I’m fifteen dad. I can just hang around in town until you get off work.” 

Beaux Graham’s eyes widened. “And loiter? No son of mine is gonna be caught loitering. Kids that don’t have anywhere to go end up finding trouble. Or trouble finds them. You understand, kiddo?” He gently tugged Will’s hand away from his mouth. “I just want the best for you.” 

Will felt the slow descent of defeat wash over him. “Yessir,” he murmured. Beaux ruffled his hair again, much to Will’s disdain. “Now go start on your homework, ok?” 

He turned to leave, then paused, hand braced on the facing of the kitchen door. “Where’d you meet him?”

His dad stood, shuffling some bills around on the table before stepping to the sink and washing his hands. “At the school. He says he’s a consultant there sometimes. He overheard me talking to the principal about how I’ve been struggling getting you from school because of my work schedule. Turns out he lives on the way, so it worked out perfectly.” 

Will nodded without turning around. “Oh,” is all he could manage. He was still struggling with that latent feeling of helplessness common in children who aren’t yet in control of their own destinies. This man, whoever he was, would be picking him up from school, and that was all there was to it. Will sighed. “I guess I’ll go to my room now,” Will said to no one in particular. “What do we have to eat?”

Beaux sighed. “Sandwiches again, buddy. Sorry. Until I get paid boloney will have to do. You ok with that?” 

He turned and gave his dad a little smile. “Sure dad. I think I’ll just have cereal though.” 

Will trudged up the stairs, his beat-up backpack looped over one shoulder. He sat it down heavily inside his bedroom door and flopped down on the single bed. He turned the radio on, loud enough that his dad would be calling upstairs soon, but it helped to drown out the noise in his head. He could feel the panic at his situation rise in the jittery way his hands started to shake, in the prickly heat of his neck and chest and the way his breathing started to get faster. He hummed along to the radio, suddenly wishing he hadn’t done his homework during lunch; it would’ve given him something to do. 

\---

Will was up before his alarm, splashing cold water on his face and dressing for school. They didn’t have a uniform policy at the public school his dad had enrolled him in, so he made do with the worn jeans and slightly-shabby shirts his dad had bought him a few years back. Will had taken care of them, but growth spurts and just life as a teenager take their toll on something as finite as fabric. Will still managed to be clean and put together, though, and he never asked his dad for anything unless he well and truly needed it. A missing button or a frayed cuff wasn’t a reason for a shopping trip in Beaux Graham’s eyes; you wore your clothes until they were wore out, and Will understood that. 

Will headed downstairs for the cereal he had foregone last night, something sugary and colorful that would see him through until lunch at school. Will qualified for a free lunch due to his dad’s income, so he never had to worry about being beat up for lunch money. What bullies there were, and there were plenty, mostly called him disparaging names like “freak” and “loser” and occasionally pushed him roughly against the lockers, but that was about it. High school shit, Will liked to think of it, although he had been bullied in middle school too. 

“You ‘bout ready to go champ?” Beaux Graham crossed to the coffee pot and filled a thermos. Will knew then that his dad would place that thermos, along with a boloney sandwich, into a beat-up green tin lunchbox he carried to work every day. And so he did.

Will slurped the rest of his milk and placed the bowl in the sink. “I’ll be in the truck, Dad,” he said as he rushed out the door. His father followed shortly after, tin lunchbox in one hand and keys in the other. 

Lost in the routine of the school day, Will forgot all about who was picking him up. By the time 3pm rolled around, he was sweating and his hands were shaking. He stood in line with the other car riders, waiting for his name to be called. 

When it was, he was summoned to the most ostentatious car Will had ever seen. A shiny Bentley, and sat behind it, the supposed Dr. Lecter. 

Will fingered the edge of his shirt absently. When he didn’t get in, the window rolled down. “Are you Will Graham?” came a deep accented voice. When Will nodded, the man motioned for him to get in. 

Settled into the vehicle’s luxury leather seats, Will sat stiffly with his backpack in his lap. 

Hannibal eyed him curiously, noticing his stiff posture and his hesitancy to make eye contact. “I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter," he said as he pulled out of the car line. “I’ll be picking you up from school from now on.” 

When Will said nothing, Hannibal indicated the backpack Will hugged to his chest. “Would you like me to put that in the trunk for you?” 

“No thanks,” came the soft reply, eyes straight ahead. Outside it had started to rain, and Will watched the wipers as they made their rhythmic pass across the windshield.

“The seat is heated if you’d like,” Hannibal pointed out. “It’s chilly out.” 

Will shook his head, wild curls fluffed from the humidity. “No thank you,” he said primly. “I’m fine.” 

Hannibal took in the boy’s thin button down and threadbare pants and swallowed a sigh. 

They rode the rest of the way in silence, Hannibal observing in his periphery the way the boy started to relax a little, his gaze rarely straying from the window. Blue eyes the color of the Mediterranean stole little glances at Hannibal when he thought he wasn’t looking. When they pulled up to Hannibal’s palatial home, those eyes were wide with curiosity. 

Once inside, Will toed off his sneakers. It seemed like the right thing to do in a home like this, until he noticed a hole in one of his socks. A red blush spread across his cheeks, and he quickly turned the sock around so Dr. Lecter wouldn’t notice. 

Dr. Lecter had left him inside the door with no instruction, so Will remained there, momentarily frozen in place. He cleared his throat once he caught sight of the man again, walking across the foyer into what Will assumed was the kitchen from how brightly lit it was. 

Dr. Lecter promptly turned around and, as if remembering Will might need some sort of formal instruction and not just make himself at home, indicated his backpack. 

“You may put that in the study, if you wish William. I’ll be in shortly to help you with your homework.”

“It’s Will,” the boy corrected as he carefully followed Dr. Lecter on the cool tiles. “Just Will.” 

The man smiled, and it made Will feel slightly warm. “Ok then Will. What do you like to drink?” 

Will fingered the fraying edge of his cuff, a nervous habit. “Soda?” 

A deep frown twisted Dr. Lecter’s face, and Will suddenly felt as if he had said something wrong. 

“We don’t drink that here, Will. It’s not very good for you, you know. How about some juice or water?” 

Will stood in the study, unsure of where to place his things. “Water is fine,” he called out. 

The study was a large room, but it felt close because of how full it was. Fine furnishings and art adorned nearly every wall and corner. Will had seen rooms like these in books, but never in real life. There was a fireplace with two overstuffed chairs facing it, a couch and loveseat, a desk, decorative tables and a curious-looking piano set by the window. 

Will finally sat his backpack down and walked over to the piano. It was beautifully gilded and engraved, and when he ran his fingers over it, the cool ivory felt pleasant against his skin. 

“My harpsichord. Would you like me to teach you to play?” 

Will whirled around, startled by that accented voice that for the life of Will he couldn’t place. European, most certainly. Beyond that he hadn’t a clue. 

“It’s ok,” Will said sheepishly. “I won’t be here too long anyway.” 

The stately man titled his head and considered Will. “Your dad doesn’t get off until six, correct? Plus there’s time to commute. We have a good several hours ahead of us Will.” 

Will openly stared at the man. He was tan, with smooth skin and the kind of high cheekbones and chiseled features that Will had no hope of growing into. His mouth was generous, plump lips stretched over sharp teeth that Will got only flashes of when he was speaking or smiling. His eyes were brown, almost red, and glinted with a knowing light. 

Will glanced down at the man’s large hands and found two glasses of water. He held one out to Will.

“There are only two house rules here Will. Obedience is rewarded; disobedience is punished. Do you understand?”

Will nodded numbly. He understood, but then he didn’t. It was vague enough to be threatening, though, so Will resolved internally to be as good as he could be. 

“Come, let’s get you situated at the desk, shall we? So we can look over your homework.” 

Will flushed red. “I-I’ve already done it,” he stammered shyly. “At my lunch period.”

Hannibal pursed his lips. “Well I’m going to need to review it,” he said simply. “It’s part of my agreement with your father that I would help you with your homework, so I would appreciate it if you would save it for our time together. Is that alright with you?” 

Will ducked his head. “Yes sir,” Will replied quietly. 

Hannibal smiled. “Yes or no will do. It’s my fondest wish that we become friends, Will.” 

Will finally looked at the man, his smile infectious. “Okay,” he said, and returned the smile. 

“Now get your backpack; let me see what you’ve been up to during your lunch period.” 

They reviewed Will’s work, Hannibal checking his mathematics for accuracy and expounding on his history with exhaustive commentary. Will was studying ancient Greece in school, a topic that Will found Hannibal knew much about. 

“I have a book here you might be interested in,” Hannibal said as he rose from where they sat together at the desk. “About ancient Greece.” I think it will compliment your studies nicely.” He smiled. “You might even enjoy it, too.” 

Will gave Hannibal a little smile, his legs wrapped around both legs of the chair he sat in. He played with the edge of an expensive looking pen. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal hummed. “Why don’t you call me Hannibal?” He turned from the bookshelf, smoothing the front of his immaculate suit. “Are you so formal with your friends?” 

Will huffed a little laugh, then lowered his eyes. “Don’t have that many to speak of.” 

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Smart, good-looking boy like you? Surely not.” 

Will blushed. “I’m just the new kid is all. No one likes the new kid very much.” 

“I see,” Hannibal said as he sat down beside Will. “Do you find it difficult to make friends in general?”

Will clasped the pen he was playing with, the one Dr. Lecter had used to review his work. He lowered his eyes. “I think differently than other kids. No one wants to be friends with a freak.”

Hannibal titled his head thoughtfully. “Is that your words or theirs?” 

Will looked up at him then, his blue eyes clear and shuttered by the wayward curls that fell across his forehead. “I guess it’s theirs,” he whispered. 

Hannibal patted Will on the back, and the heat from his hand warmed Will through his thin shirt. “Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” 

Will smiled fondly, finding eye contact with the charismatic man easier to achieve. “I guess not Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal held up a finger in correction. “It’s Hannibal, remember?”

Will nodded. “Hannibal,” he said carefully, enjoying the way the name felt on his lips. 

Hannibal patted his shoulder again, and nodded. “Let’s relocate to the kitchen, shall we? See if we can get dinner started.” 

Will waffled a bit. “It’s ok, Hannibal. You don’t have to feed me. I mean, I can just get something when I get home.” 

Hannibal tsked. “Nonsense. You’re a guest in my home. You’ve had a hard day at school and haven’t eaten since a subpar cafeteria lunch. Of course you’ll dine with me. Won’t you Will?”

Will only nodded, feeling a little unmoored. The way Hannibal’s words filled the air was like music.

“Will you assist me? I think it could be very educational for you.” Hannibal looked at Will expectantly, wiping his hands on a dish cloth. 

“I don’t really cook,” Will said, twisting his fingers in his cuff. “Not unless you count toast and boxed mac and cheese.”

Hannibal frowned. “No matter,” he said crisply. “A growing boy like you needs proper sustenance if they are going to thrive. So let’s get started.” 

Will peeled the carrots standing in his sock feet in Hannibal’s kitchen. It was a bright, modern place, belonging more in the back of a restaurant than someone’s house. Standing against the counter, Will felt small. 

At some point Hannibal dismissed Will to the study, then instructed him to wash up and wait for him in the dining room. The smells coming from the kitchen made his stomach growl, but he did as he was told. Soon, Hannibal came out of the kitchen, balancing two plates on his arm and in his other hand he held a bottle of wine. 

“I know you are well below the legal drinking age, but I don’t think a spot of wine with your dinner will do anyone any harm, do you?” 

Will swallowed, accepting the offering with a thankful smile. The wine was sweet, with a sharp aftertaste, and Will had to stop himself from drinking the whole glass in one go. 

Dinner was roast pork loin, caramelized carrots and roasted red potatoes with some sort of herb. It smelled heavenly, but Will waited for Hannibal before he dug in. 

The first morsel burst on his tongue, and before he could stop himself Will made a little sound of pleasure at the taste. Hannibal seemed pleased, his eyes sharpening on the boy before he took another of his own bites. 

“Dr. Lecter, this is the best thing I’ve ever had,” Will gushed, his cheeks full of food. Self-consciously he reached for the napkin to dab at his lips instead of licking them, but he dug into the food with the unrestrained fervor of the very hungry. 

Hannibal ate very little, preferring instead to watch the little waif enjoy his food. Will was a vision like this, ravenous and eager, and Hannibal resolved then and there to feed and spoil and ruin him as much as he allowed. 

Instead of revealing this, he simply tipped his glass. “One must not talk with one’s mouth full, Will. But I’m so glad you are enjoying the meal you helped prepare.”

Will was careful to swallow first before speaking again. “I only did the carrots,” he argued softly. 

“Ah, but the meal would be incomplete without them,” Hannibal replied easily. 

Will took another swig of his wine. It made him feel warm and a little flushed, and he decided he liked the feeling. 

When Hannibal brought out dessert, Will’s eyes lit up. “A chocolate torte with raspberries,” Hannibal explained before setting it before Will. He spared the boy a gentle smile before gesturing for him to dig in. 

And Will did, with a barely restrained ferocity. Hannibal’s smile broadened as Will licked the spoon, savoring the last few bits. 

The boy’s table manners would need work, he noted mentally, but it was such an undeniable pleasure to watch him eat and enjoy. 

By the time dinner was done, Will was full and sleepy. There was still an hour left until Beaux Graham would pick up his son, plenty of time to indulge in a variety of activities. 

But Will looked tired, and the kitchen needed cleaning. “Why don’t you retire to the study, Will? And I’ll join you momentarily.”

Will walked slowly back to the ornate room he’d spent most of the evening in and settled on the couch. Unconsciously, he curled his feet under him, reclining on one of the fluffy pillows there. 

When Hannibal returned, he found Will asleep. Tentatively, he sat at Will’s head, not touching the boy but not wanting him to be alone once he woke up. 

Will Graham had been a surprise. This wild little thing, nervous and unsure of himself. Hannibal would see him blossom, he decided. He would see him bloom. 

Carefully, Hannibal pushed a curl away from the boy’s smooth forehead. His eyelids fluttered, but other than that he did not move. 

Hannibal sat there beside Will, the book about Ancient Greece in his lap. He thought of Will--smart, misunderstood, beautiful Will struggling to grow up in a world full of cruel people. If he could help him along, he would. 

Hannibal knew Beaux Graham had arrived when the door slammed shut on his old Ford pickup. He had nodded off himself, and the sound startled him awake. 

It startled Will too, who blinked up blearily at Hannibal with a crooked smile. “Is that Dad?” He sat up quickly and began gathering his things while Hannibal answered the door. 

“Come in Mr. Graham. I trust you’ve had a good day.”

Beaux Graham scrubbed his feet furiously on the front step before entering the foyer. He looked older to Will, somehow, standing in the entranceway pumping Dr. Lecter’s hand. 

“Hi Dad,” Will said brightly as he scrubbed sleep from his eyes. “Ready to go?” 

Beaux nodded, and then much to Will’s chagrin, reached forward to ruffle his boy’s hair. “This one didn’t give you too much trouble, did he Dr. Lecter?” 

Hannibal only smiled. “None whatsoever. He was a true pleasure.” Hannibal stood in the doorway as the two made their way to the old truck. Beaux turned, his hand up in a little wave before he aborted it. “I can’t tell you how much this helps me out,” he said gratefully. “Will here is all I’ve got.” 

Hannibal nodded, his eyes softening. “You’re a rich man indeed, then. It’s no trouble at all.” 

He bid them goodnight and then closed the door as he heard the truck drive away. 

When Will got home, he went straight to bed. He could hear his dad downstairs making a sandwich, brewing more coffee. Dad never slept much. His habits had started to spread to his son. 

When Will did sleep, he dreamt of Hannibal. Impeccably pressed suits, large, veiny hands wrapped around a glass of water, the delicate flick of his wrist as he maneuvered a saucepan. Will woke up with a half-hard cock and a brilliant flush to his cheek. 

School came and went. He wore his best shirt and socks without holes (he made sure this time). When the Bentley pulled up in the car line, he met the driver with a smile. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said brightly as he eased onto the leather seats. 

Hannibal only smirked. “It’s Hannibal, remember?” 

Will flushed. “I know, but I like your title. You should too. You worked hard to get it.” 

Hannibal pulled away from the curb, a soft smile on his face. The boy was wearing a white button down, less tatty than yesterday but in need of pressing. He had made a conscious effort to look more presentable, and something inside Hannibal tugged at that revelation. Will needed no help in being beautiful, but he appreciated the boy’s effort just the same. 

“You dressed smartly today,” Hannibal said easily. He let his eyes flick over Will in the passenger seat long enough to drink in the warm blush those words brought to his cheeks. 

Will grinned, a little lopsided. “It’s just my Sunday shirt is all,” he said with a little too much candor. “Figured I would do something different.”

Hannibal nodded. “I see. Well it suits you. White is a lovely contrast with your hair and eyes.” 

Will flushed furiously, fighting the urge to hide his face behind his backpack which was yet again perched in his lap. Hannibal just turned the radio up, something by Vivaldi, and let the music fill the car as he drove on. 

Will dutifully toed off his shoes and followed Dr. Lecter into the study. He was ready today, his homework lessons neatly divided by subject and his books stacked on the desk. He sat down while Dr. Lecter brought him a glass of water. 

Their fingers brushed and a warm, heavy feeling settled itself in the pit of Will’s stomach. They went through his homework, page by page, but all Will could concentrate on was that little brush of skin. Despite the water, his throat was dry. 

After homework was done and thoroughly checked, Hannibal brought out the book on Ancient Greece. “You left this yesterday,” he said as he sat back down beside Will. “But of course, I kept it for you. Since, according to your History syllabus, you’ll be studying Greece for the next few weeks, you’ll need it.” 

Will gratefully accepted the book, flipping through the pages with pursed lips. His eyes widened in alarm. “Dr. Lecter, this is in another language! I can’t possibly read this!” 

Hannibal just chuckled and lifted Will’s chin until he could see those impossibly blue eyes. “You will if I teach you, my dear. The book is in Greek. We start languages after dinner.” 

Will chewed his bottom lip, one of many nervous habits, and Hannibal chided him with a smooth thumb across his mouth. It was so unexpected that Will gasped, leaning into the touch. “That will ruin your mouth, dear boy. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Will licked his lips quickly and shook his head. He felt hot all over, and suddenly regretted the button down. Before he could think any further on the matter, he followed Dr. Lecter into the kitchen where he tied an apron around his waist and instructed him to wash up. 

Will once again helped prepare the vegetables. Dr. Lecter had put on a record in the study, and the sound floated out of the room and down the hall to reach them all the way in the kitchen. Will hummed along, finding the violin piece soothing and beautiful. Before he realized it, nearly an hour had passed of him doing menial kitchen tasks, and dinner was ready. 

Hannibal once again served him wine, delighting in the flush it brought to the boy’s cheek. He poured himself a little more, and they settled into dinner and conversation. 

Halfway through his meal, however, Will stopped eating. When Hannibal questioned him, he stated that he was full. That, Hannibal knew, was a lie. 

Hannibal cut off another piece of duck and chewed thoughtfully. “Tell me the real reason you won’t eat your dinner Will, and I’ll go light on your punishment for lying to me.” 

Will swallowed, tears brimming in his eyes. “I thought,” he wavered, fingering the edge of his wine glass. “I thought I could take the rest home, so Dad could have some.” 

Hannibal sat back in his chair, considering. “Well, why don’t you finish your meal tonight, and tomorrow we’ll cook enough for your dad as well. Is that suitable?” 

The boy smiled, picking up his fork again. “Am I still in trouble for lying?” He managed between bites. 

Hannibal dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I’m afraid you are. You must never lie to me Will. If you do, I’ll know.” 

A hot knot of dread settled in Will’s belly. He had disappointed Hannibal, someone he’d come to look on as a mentor and a friend. If he had it to do over again, he would not have lied. 

Will helped clear the dishes, his blood hot with impending doom. Perhaps Hannibal would forget to punish him. Perhaps –

“Come here, Will. To the study, please.” 

With heavy steps, Will made his way to the study. He found Hannibal sitting in one of the wing-backed chairs, a severe expression on his face. “Come to me,” he said when the boy was in sight, and Will didn’t stop until he was standing before him. 

“Over my knee,” Hannibal said, patting his leg gently. 

Will squeaked, his face burning hot. “I—I’m too old for a spanking,” he protested. 

Hannibal’s chuckle was warm and rose little pinpricks of sensation along Will’s skin. “You’re never too old to answer for your wrongdoings, Will. Now over my knee. Now, please.” 

Will shuffled closer to Hannibal until his knees were touching Hannibal’s thighs. With face burning and his heart hammering in his chest, he bent over the man’s lap. 

“You’ll get five strikes, Will.” There was a warm authority to his voice that Will had not heard before. “You’ll count each one using my title, not my name.” 

Will squirmed in the man’s lap, his cock stirring with interest. Hopefully Dr. Lecter couldn’t feel him rut against his thigh; maybe he just thought the boy was trying to get in a comfortable position to take his punish—

The first strike left Will stunned and stinging. He let his head drop and a puff of air rush passed his lips. “One, Dr. Lecter.” 

The second and third strikes brought a burning heat to the back of his thighs and an embarrassing blush to his cheeks. Part of him wanted to cry. The other part wanted to relax into Dr. Lecter’s hands and let him do what he would. 

The fourth strike was on his bottom, and to Will’s great embarrassment, sent a jolt of arousal to his cock. He closed his eyes and prayed Dr. Lecter couldn’t feel it. 

“Four, Dr. Lecter,” he panted out breathlessly. If he moved up on his lap just a little more, maybe he could get more friction to his neglected cock without Dr. Lecter knowing. He inched up on his tiptoes, pushing his hips up as the fifth strike knocked him forward with a grunt. 

“Five, Dr. Lecter.” He felt tears streaming down his cheeks, and he sniffed as Hannibal helped him up. He pulled him into a warm embrace. “There now,” the older man said. “That wasn’t so bad?” Hannibal lowered his mouth to the boy’s ear, feeling him shiver. “You were so brave, taking your punishment.” A soft whine escaped the back of Will’s throat, and he promptly clamped his mouth shut. “You should be very proud.” 

Will found himself nodding, a little hazy and his backside still warm and stinging. Hannibal finally released him, a satisfied smile on his face. “Now, let’s see if we can learn some Greek.” 

\---

Hannibal didn’t tell Beaux about Will lying, and true to his word, the next night they prepared enough for Will to take home with him, for his father. From Hannibal’s perspective, Beaux Graham, given the time and resources, would be an excellent father. For now he was only adequate, but thankfully Will now had Hannibal to fill in the gaps. 

And fill them he did. In the weeks and months that followed, they studied languages and cooked and did homework. Will showed interest in the harpsichord, and Hannibal began lessons in rudimentary scales. One day Hannibal brought Will into the study, per usual, only for him to find several wrapped packages lying on the desk waiting for him. The boy was stunned and only approached them when Hannibal gave him a little nudge. “These are for you, dear Will. For all of your hard work.” 

Will chewed his lip before thinking better of it. “But, it’s not my birthday or anything,” he protested quietly. His cheeks were slightly pink. 

“No, it’s not your birthday,” Hannibal affirmed. “But I don’t need an occasion to reward a job well done, now do I? Go on, Will. Unwrap them.” 

Will sat down at the desk, gingerly tracing his fingers over the beautifully wrapped packages. “If there’s something that doesn’t fit, we’ll simply take it back,” Hannibal reassured him. 

Inside the first box there were three new shirts, all in the latest styles and fit for school. The next box contained pants, four new pair…jeans and dress pants and a pair of corduroys. All, again, excellent for school. Another box contained a smartphone, preprogrammed with Hannibal’s number. The last two boxes held a new pair of sneakers, along with socks and underwear. Will took it all in with a dazed sort of gratitude, the boy rendered speechless by all the gifts. 

“I don’t know what to say, Hannibal,” Will said quietly. “But thank you.” He rose from the desk and crossed to Hannibal, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Thank you, thank you,” he said with glee, his voice muffled by Hannibal’s suit. 

Hannibal returned the embrace, kneeling to catch the boy around the shoulders and draw him too him. His cheeks were still pink with happiness, and his eyes were bright with joy. Hannibal would draw him later, he decided, just like this. 

When Beaux Graham arrived to pick up his son, he was surprised to find him wearing new clothes. Will had insisted on changing and trying on everything, and his favorites he wore the rest of the evening, much to Hannibal’s delight. 

But Will’s father did not like the idea of his boy with shiny new things he had not bought. He shook his head on the doorstep of Hannibal’s home, his face grave. “We don’t accept charity, Dr. Lecter. I’m sorry but you shouldn’t have done that.” 

Hannibal’s face fell. “This isn’t charity, Mr. Graham. These are gifts. Your son has worked extremely hard on his lessons these past few weeks and I felt he deserved to be rewarded.”

Beaux Graham worried something in his pocket, his frown deepening. “Willy, is it true? Have you been working hard with Dr. Lecter?” 

Will peeked out from behind Hannibal and nodded his head. “He’s teaching me Italian, Dad. And the Harpsichord. And I already know how to make four dishes by myself. Chicken Alfredo, rack of lamb, umm, potatoes au gratin—“

“Ok, ok, son. I get it.” He turned to Dr. Lecter who still stood between Will and the door. “I guess it’s alright then. I can’t pay you for none of it?” 

Hannibal straightened, trying not to feel offended. “Nothing,” he said simply. “They were gifts, and well earned.” 

Will’s dad looked more relaxed, and relented. “Alright then. Willy, let’s go. Get your things.” 

Will silently complied, gathering his backpack as well as the presents and followed his father to the truck without looking back. 

The next few weeks came and went. Will read portions of the book in Greek, then translated it back to English. They cooked together, an easy camaraderie shared between them. Hannibal found himself looking forward to collecting him from school every day and to the time they shared. 

But every night Hannibal released him to his father, and every night Hannibal lay awake and thought of Will. 

Will, with his silken curls and smooth pink cheek. Will, looking up at him with blue eyes full of mirth, teasing him in the kitchen by threatening to make a mess, just to garner a reaction from him.

He thought of Will and slept little. 

One night at dinner, Will asked for more wine. Hannibal waffled only briefly before relenting. He would give his boy anything.

“What do you do at the high school?” Will asked. He had often wondered about the nature of Dr. Lecter’s work there, since he rarely saw him on campus. 

Hannibal took a sip of wine before answering. “I consult on difficult cases with the school counselor. I’m a social worker of sorts, or I assist them.” 

Will nodded. “And that’s how you met Dad?”

Hannibal smiled. “Exactly. He was explaining his work situation to rather uncaring ears, and I offered to lend a hand.” 

Will smiled behind his wine glass. “I’m glad you did, Hannibal. I can’t imagine not knowing you.” 

The emotion that triggered in Hannibal was unexpected. He cleared his throat, unsure of how to respond, of how he could accurately relate just how much Will meant to him. He decided not to, and raised his glass in toast instead. 

“To friends, then,” he said simply, and Will clinked his glass with his. “To friends,” he repeated, an enigmatic smile on his face. 

Will mastered Greek quickly and moved on to Italian. He flourished under Hannibal’s watchful care….the old ticks and nervousness all but vanishing under the young man he was growing into. On the week of his sixteenth birthday, Beaux Graham met Hannibal at the door with a rather pained expression on his face. 

“I’ve got a side job,” he explained. “It’s good work, but it’s out of state. I haven’t talked to Willy about it because I was going to ask you first. You wouldn’t mind him staying here for a few weeks, would you? And you seeing to him while I’m gone?”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. The worst part of his day was when he had to say goodbye to his boy. Not having too, even for a few weeks, would be better than he could even imagine. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Hannibal intoned seriously. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Beaux Graham laughed nervously. “I know that, Dr. Lecter. You’ve been mighty good to us. Mighty good. I just hate I won’t be here for his birthday. But I’ll call him. Alright?” 

Hannibal patted him on the shoulder. “That sounds just fine, Mr. Graham. I’ll make sure Will is perfectly fine while you’re away.” 

Will exited the house with a little wave to Dr. Lecter, and he returned it, thankful that would be the last time in a long time that he would have to tell Will goodbye. 

The next day Will came to Dr. Lecter’s with bags packed. It was a Saturday, and Will said goodbye to his dad in the driveway. He was going upstate on a construction job and didn’t know when he would return. 

Will wasn’t too worried. As he had grown, his reliance on his father had lessened. Objective parties might argue that it had merely transferred to Hannibal, but Will didn’t see it that way. He viewed Hannibal as one might view a mentor or even an equal. He didn’t feel reliant on him, but at the same time needed him in his life. 

It was complicated. 

Hannibal showed Will to a very neutral, somewhat masculine space, the guest room he would be inhabiting for the next few weeks. He then took the opportunity to show Will around the rest of the house, realizing that in all the boy’s time here, he’d never taken the tour. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Hannibal said as Will sat heavily down on his bed in the guest room. “We have a packed Saturday planned.”

Will rolled his eyes. “More language lessons?” 

Hannibal laughed. “No, my dear boy. You’ve hit a growth spurt. We’re going shopping. Plus, you need a proper suit. I have plans for tomorrow night, too.” 

Will just shook his head, slowly making his way toward Hannibal. He let his body fall into Hannibal’s space, and Hannibal quickly encircled him with his arms. Will sighed. “You’re too good to me,” Will replied breathily. Hannibal just smoothed a hand over his dark curls and tutted. “Not nearly as good as you are for me.”

The shopping trip went uneventfully. Hannibal took Will to his tailor’s, knowing a bespoke was out of the question for tomorrow night, but having Will measured for one anyway. They would alter something off the rack and make do. 

Will shamelessly stripped in Hannibal’s presence, no hint of blush on his cheek. He stood there getting measured, a wall of mirrors flaunting his newly masculine features, and he smiled cheekily at Hannibal as soon as he caught his gaze. If Hannibal didn’t know better, he would have thought the boy was flirting with him. 

Perhaps he was. 

After the tailor’s they went to a little café where they sipped Turkish coffee and talked about anything and everything. The weather was brisk, and Will had on a scarf Hannibal had bought him over a blazer that was also a gift. He looked ravishing, and seeing Will in the clothes he had provided never ceased to bring Hannibal pleasure. 

After the café, they had the packages delivered ahead of them and detoured through the park. Will clasped Hannibal’s hand, sending a shock through him. Hannibal flinched as if he had been burned. 

When he tried to release him, Will only clasped him tighter. 

“We shouldn’t,” Hannibal said quietly as he sought Will’s gaze. “People will get the wrong idea about us.” 

Will laughed, his cheeks ruddy from the cold and his curls falling free. “Maybe that’s the idea I want them to get, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal had nothing to say to that. 

That night after dinner, Will helped as he usually did. Hannibal lovingly washed every dish and then passed them to Will for drying and putting away, and it was a calm and easy ritual that always put Will in a relaxed headspace. When they were finished, Will caught Hannibal’s arm. 

“Why don’t you touch me more,” he asked softly, blue eyes catching the bright light of the kitchen and almost washing to grey. “You can you know.”

Hannibal sighed, breath catching in his throat. “I can’t. You’re too young, Will.” 

Will ran his hand up Hannibal’s arm to play with the collar of his shirt. “Age is just a number. I know them in three languages, thanks to you.” He let his finger slip beneath the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, skirting along his pulse. “I know what I want, Hannibal. And it’s you.” 

Hannibal caught Will’s wrist, pulling it away. “We can’t,” he contested. “It wouldn’t be—“

Will silenced him with a kiss, his soft lips teasing at Hannibal’s with persistence. Unbidden, Hannibal moaned, relenting to the pressure of the kiss and opening to the hot wet heat of Will’s mouth. 

Will slipped his tongue passed the barrier of Hannibal’s lips, growling into the kiss as his arms went up to encircle Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal pulled away, breathless and panting. He tried to put spaced between them. “As nice as that was, that can’t happen again.” 

Will just smiled, his hands trailing Hannibal’s chest. “Yes, it can Hannibal. Because you want this. You’ve always wanted this.” 

Will teased the waistband of Hannibal’s pants, fingers slipping just below to trace the hardening line of his cock. 

“Ungh,” Hannibal said as he caught Will’s wrist again, catching it behind his back. He nipped at the boy’s neck, pressing him into counter. “Don’t tease me like that,” Hannibal groaned as he tasted the sweet flutter of Will’s racing pulse beneath his lips. 

“I’m not a tease,” Will sighed into his ear, arching his body away from the counter and into Hannibal as much as possible. “You can have me. All of me.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal hissed. “But not now, dear boy. Not yet.” 

Will whined, twisting out of Hannibal’s grip to place another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “What are we waiting for?” He unbuttoned Hannibal’s jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. 

Then he stopped. Abruptly, he laughed. “You’re waiting, aren’t you? Waiting for my birthday.” 

Hannibal swallowed but didn’t deny it. He slid his shoulders back into his jacket. 

Will cocked his hip, a sly smile on his face. “There’s not much difference between fifteen and sixteen, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal straightened his tie. “There is to me. I want you sixteen, and that’s the end of it.” 

Will pouted but relented. They retired to the study where Will read to Hannibal in Italian and then in Greek. His birthday was in six days. He could hardly wait.

\---

Will’s suit arrived early Sunday morning. It wasn’t the bespoke number Hannibal would have liked, but on such short notice it would certainly do. It was navy blue to compliment his boy’s eyes. He would cut a fine figure at the opera, on Hannibal’s arm. 

Will smiled at the new arrival. “Is that for me?” He had come downstairs in his pajama bottoms and nothing else, and his usually unruly curls were in even more disarray from a night of sleeping. 

He pressed forward, bare feet on the tiles, and pecked Hannibal on the cheek. Hannibal flushed from the scent of him, a warmth of soap and sweat and the hint of fresh linens. He withdrew from the touch immediately. 

Will frowned. “Surely you will allow me that,” he said, almost indignant at being denied. But Hannibal ignored him.

“Try on your suit, Will.” Hannibal was already dressed for the day, another three piece suit, and he walked to the kitchen to start the coffee. Will stripped off his bottoms right there in the hallway and began assembling the suit piece by piece. 

When Will was finished, he bypassed the mirror in the hallway in favor of Hannibal. His back was turned at the counter, apron tied around his waist. 

“Ahem.” 

Hannibal turned and nearly dropped the bowl of eggs he was whipping. Will looked resplendent in the suit, its modern cut accenting his body perfectly. The tie was also a wise choice as it highlighted his skin tone with just the right touch of shimmer.

“You look perfect,” Hannibal breathed. And yes, even with his hair in disarray and sleep crusting his eyes his boy indeed looked perfect.

Will sauntered forth, a wry grin on his face. “Need some help in the kitchen?” he almost whispered. 

“Not in that suit,” Hannibal asserted as he moved the eggs well out of his reach. “Take it off and then you can help me cook.” 

“Yes sir,” Will said with a small note of humor, shrugging out of his jacket and working on his tie. 

“Not in here, incorrigible boy. Go upstairs, hang up your suit, and get ready for the day.” 

Will’s eyes sparkled. “You sure you don’t want me to keep going, Hannibal?” He wrapped the tie around both hands and pulled it tight. 

Hannibal summoned his willpower and turned back to the counter. “No I do not. I want you to do as I asked, please.” 

He let out a slow, steady breath when he heard Will ascend the stairs. His boy would surely be the death of him. 

They enjoyed a lazy breakfast of omelets and fruit, and Will called his father as Hannibal did the dishes. Beaux Graham was preparing for his first day tomorrow, and his nerves came through as he made bad jokes about the weather to the boy he still called Willy. Will told him about the opera but not the suit; he knew it made his dad nervous when Hannibal gave Will gifts. 

They spent the rest of the day tending the garden. It was refreshing for Will to be around Hannibal during his leisure hours. The strict routine of their after school time was regimented to certain acts and certain areas of the house. This was the first time Will had seen the small meditation garden behind the house, and he was surprised to learn that Hannibal maintained it himself. 

They lounged afterward with glasses of lemonade, letting the late autumn sun bake into their skin. Will put his feet in Hannibal’s lap, and he allowed it. He even caressed the boy’s foot with a calloused hand, the light touch sending little tremors up Will’s body. Will put his head back, eyes closed to the sun, and stretched his work-weary limbs. The hand on his foot tightened, a thumb settling in his arch, and he moaned. 

“I’ve worked you too hard,” Hannibal hummed with a brief smile. “Perhaps you’ll need a nap before the opera.” 

Will offered his other foot, and Hannibal acquiesced. “You’ve spoiled me, Hannibal. And I don’t deserve it.” 

Hannibal lifted the foot, kissing the splayed toes one by one. “You deserve the world, Will. And I am remiss if I don’t give it to you.” 

\---

The opera was a stilted affair, and as much as Will hungered for culture and the humanities, he found himself drifting at Hannibal’s side. There were so many introductions, an endless parade of titles and faces, and he found himself nodding and smiling until it was a rote practice. In the quiet of their box, Will sighed into Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Is my boy tired already,” Hannibal intoned gently, whisky-warm in the darkness. 

Will just burrowed further into Hannibal’s shoulder where he remained through intermission. 

On the ride home, he was quiet. Hannibal reached over, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing gently. “You were perfect tonight.” 

Will looked at Hannibal, a wistful expression on his face. “I didn’t feel perfect. I felt out of place. Like I didn’t belong.” 

Hannibal hummed. “You belong wherever you like, Will.”

“What about by your side?” Will asked softly. 

“You were, tonight.” Hannibal replied. 

“And after?” 

Hannibal pressed his lips together. “If you prefer.” 

Will’s smile quirked. “I prefer,” he said. 

They rode the rest of the way in silence. 

\---

Will’s birthday arrived with the chirping of birds outside the guest bedroom window where Will slept. He stretched languorously, enjoying the sun on his face where it sifted through the gossamer curtains. Downstairs, he could smell the tempting aroma of coffee and pastries and he could hear Hannibal humming along to the classical record that was playing in the study. 

Will swung his legs onto the floor and headed to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and dressed quickly, choosing from both the clothes he had brought with him and the copious choices Hannibal consistently provided him. Once dressed, he trotted down the stairs in his bare feet. 

He snuck up behind Hannibal and wrapped his arms around his waist. He nuzzled the back of his neck fondly and breathed in his scent. “Good morning,” he said huskily. “Guess what today is?” 

Hannibal turned in his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Saturday?” 

Will slapped his arm, pouting generously as if Hannibal wasn’t kidding. Then, Hannibal surprised him by kissing him softly, teeth just nipping at the tender flesh. 

“Happy Birthday, my dear boy,” Hannibal whispered. “As if I could forget your special day.” 

Will smiled against his mouth, kissing the corner and then pecking his cheek, enjoying the smooth, just-shaved silk of the skin he found there. 

“What do you want to do today?” Will said against Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal just hummed thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He pulled away so he could gaze into Will’s blue eyes. For as long as he could, he wanted to get lost in them. 

Will brushed noses with him. “Then ask.” 

Hannibal squeezed Will’s waist, then stepped away to get some juice out of the fridge. “I thought I might take you for a driving lesson,” Hannibal said casually. “It’s about time you learned. You’re sixteen now. You can get your license.” 

Will looked skeptical. “You would let me drive the Bentley?”

The laugh that produced from Hannibal was at once endearing and offensive. “No, not the Bentley. Perhaps, though, another car.” 

Will just blinked. “What other car?” 

Hannibal withdrew a small box with a red ribbon on it. “Happy Birthday, dearest Will.” 

The little box felt heavy in Will’s hand; he ran a hand over it cautiously, not wanting to disturb the ribbon. 

“Go ahead and open it my dear.” 

Will looked up at Hannibal with a brilliant smile on his face. He slipped his finger beneath the wrapping and tore open the little box. A pair of car keys lay inside.

Will held them up, confused. Hannibal smiled softly and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, turning him around. “Perhaps we should go outside.” 

Behind Hannibal’s Bentley was a sleek black Mercedes with a large red ribbon on the hood. Will turned to Hannibal, disbelieving. 

“Hannibal, you didn’t.”

The prim little smile said what he refused to. “It’s a very safe car. Very reliable.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Will stammered as he walked toward the new car. 

“No Will,” Hannibal corrected him. “It’s merely functional, designed to perform a task. You are beautiful.” 

Will’s hands started to shake as he ran his fingers along the shiny hood. Then, a frown worried his features as he paused to look at Hannibal. 

“Does this mean you won’t be picking me up from school anymore?” 

Hannibal laughed. “It means that, once you learn how to drive, you may come and go as you please.” He paused, hands behind his back. “I would like it very much if you chose to come here.” 

Without warning Will leapt into Hannibal’s arms, nearly knocking him down. “Of course I will come here,” He said breathlessly. He peppered Hannibal’s face with kisses. “Wherever you are is where I want to be. Will looked up at him, beaming. “Thank you so much, Hannibal.”

“You’re very welcome Will.” Hannibal stroked his back, not wanting to let him go just yet. 

“My dad is gonna shit,” Will said suddenly, the stark realization dawning on him at the height of his euphoria. 

“Don’t worry about your dad,” Hannibal said soothingly. “You can tell him you bought it from me. You can get a part time job and make payments. It will appease him.” 

Will chewed at his lip, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Hannibal eased the tender flesh free with his thumb. “So, do you want to take a drive?” 

Will nodded, his eyes bright. 

\---

Hannibal prepared a curry for Will’s birthday dinner, making sure it was hot enough for his Cajun sensibilities. He barred Will from the kitchen, citing birthday privilege. Will wasn’t pleased. 

Hannibal served them by candlelight. Soft music played in the background and Hannibal watched Will as he enjoyed the fruits of his labor. 

His boy had come such a long way from the starved, skittish thing that had first come into his home. The boy before him was very much a man; he had grown in composure and confidence and a wealth of knowledge. 

He deserved to be rewarded for all of his hard work. 

Will dabbed neatly at his mouth with a napkin, then took a sip of wine. This was his second glass, and he wore a lovely flush across his cheekbones. 

“Is there anything you would like to do to celebrate your birthday, Will? We could go to an art gallery, or even to the park. It’s lovely at night.” 

Will shook his head. “I want to stay right here, with you.” 

Hannibal’s smile was subtle. “Well in that case, would you care to dance?” He held his hand out, and Will eyed it in the candlelight. 

He just nodded, grabbing the hand by the fingertips and pulling himself up. “Right here?” He said, disbelief coloring his voice. 

Hannibal pulled him close, clutching his hand to his chest and wrapping the other one around the boy’s body. “Why not? We can hear the music well enough.” 

Will just sighed, easing into the dance. They drifted together to the melody of the music, Will’s head on Hannibal’s chest. 

The record ended, and Will looked up at Hannibal. “I want something else for my birthday,” he whispered. “I want you to take me to bed.” 

Hannibal’s grip on the boy tightened, his breath ceasing for a moment. 

“You said you would, Hannibal. And it’s my choice. I want my first time to be with you.”

Hannibal smoothed his hand over Will’s curls, losing himself in those beautiful eyes. He gathered the boy closer, kissing the top of his head. “Anything you want,” he whispered.

Will sighed in relief, reaching and tugging at Hannibal’s hand. “Right now,” he said as they neared the foot of the stairs. “Hannibal, please.” 

“Okay,” Hannibal whispered, and he followed Will upstairs, passed his room, and into Hannibal’s bedroom. 

Will looked suddenly nervous, swallowed up by the unfamiliar space. He sat down on the edge of the bed and restlessly bounced his leg. 

“Get undressed, dearest Will. And lie down on the bed for me. I’ll be right back.” 

Will did as he was told, the air in the room bringing goosebumps on his flesh. He lay down on the oversized bed and tried to make himself as comfortable and alluring as possible. 

Hannibal returned with a small chocolate birthday cake. He sat it down on the table by the fireplace and cut a piece. 

“We nearly forgot dessert,” Hannibal murmured, his eyes raking over the boy in the bed. “Open your mouth.” 

Will did, accepting a forkful of the moist, delicious cake. He moaned in pleasure, his eyes slipping closed as Hannibal looked at him with lustful eyes. 

“What about yours?” Will asked as Hannibal sat the plate on the bed. “You’re not going to have any?” 

Hannibal kissed him, licking the chocolate from his mouth. “Don’t worry Will; I’m going to have my fill,” he said as he trailed kisses down Will’s neck, to his shoulder and lathed over his collarbone, teeth scraping the barest amount. 

Will squirmed, his cock hardening with the attention of Hannibal’s mouth, his hands. Hannibal wrapped his hand around the boy’s cock, pumping it to full hardness, and Will jerked into the touch. 

“I want you in every way I can have you,” Hannibal murmured against his chest. He reached up between them to tweak a nipple, dragging a low, slow moan from Will. 

He delighted in the sounds he could draw from the boy from so light a touch. He mouthed over one nipple, all tongue and teeth, while he rolled and pinched the other. 

Will writhed, high keening noises ringing in the silence of the bedroom. Hannibal’s mouth traveled lower, across the boy’s smooth chest and abdomen, sucking bruises along the concave line of his belly. He tongued his navel, nipping it lightly, and Will shuddered. 

“Beautiful boy,” Hannibal murmured as he licked over the head of his cock before sinking down, swallowing him to the base. 

Will was so beautifully responsive. His hands went to Hannibal’s hair, sinking into the strands and pulling as his legs quivered. Hannibal sucked his shaft greedily, cheeks hollowing around his length as the boy came apart beneath him. 

Hannibal released him with a plop, leaving the boy aching and red. He played with his balls, rolling them between his fingers just to watch his cock twitch. 

Will’s body was on fire. Everywhere Hannibal touched him quivered and ached. He wanted to be filled, to be sated and spent. He longed for Hannibal to undress, to touch him and to see him come undone in kind. 

But he didn’t know how to ask. So when Hannibal grabbed a pillow and hitched up his hips, he just held on, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation. 

Hannibal reached for the plate of cake and gathered a dollop of icing. He smeared it over the boy’s hole, licking his fingers while looking at Will. “Look at me, baby boy. Don’t close your eyes. I want you with me as I savor you.” 

Will just nodded, a fistful of sheets in each hand. He jerked when Hannibal spread his thighs, touch rough and tender all at once. 

Hannibal’s tongue made a wide swipe over his hole, and Will moaned, throaty and low. Hannibal hummed his satisfaction. “You’re delicious, dearest. As I knew you would be.” 

Hannibal continued to lathe at the boy’s entrance, cleaning him of the icing and sucking gently at the puckered hole. He probed his tongue passed the tight ring of muscle, drawing a startled whine from Will. 

He soothed him by petting his thighs, but he did not relent. His tongue flicked in and out of Will’s tight channel, wet, slick sounds filling the room as Will shook apart around him. 

“Gonna come,” Will stammered through gritted teeth. He was sweating and his cock was straining and leaking over his belly. 

Hannibal lifted his head, lips spit-shine and red. “Then come, darling boy.” He lowered his head again, and Will yelped, thighs squeezing Hannibal’s head as he spurted his release. Hannibal rode it out with him until he was trembling and spent. 

Hannibal lifted his head, traveling up his body until he had lowered his mouth to the mess Will had made. He licked the pearlescent droplets, the boy boneless beneath him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured softly. “I could watch you come for days.” 

Will laughed, a soft, musical thing. “I don’t know if I could stand it for that long.” 

Hannibal licked his lips. “We could try and see.” He reached in the bedside table and withdrew a bottle of lube. “Gonna get you ready for me, sweet boy, so you can come again.” 

Hannibal warmed the lube in his fingers before circling the boy’s hole, gently applying pressure with the pad of his thumb. He pressed on his perineum, and Will’s spent cock twitched in interest. 

Gently he pushed the first finger in, Will gasping at the intrusion. He shushed him gently as he worked the finger in and out of him, allowing him time to get used to being penetrated. 

When he felt he was ready, he added a second finger. The sting caused a jolt of pain to stiffen Will’s body, and his breathing became labored. With the added finger Hannibal steadily scissored him open, moving his fingers against the tight hot heat of his body until his entrance was ready for a third. 

Will moaned at feeling so full and began to push against the fingers in earnest. Hannibal found the boy’s prostate and circled it, his cock fully hard now and twitching with need. 

“H-hannibal. Please.” 

The wet squelch of his fingers working in and out of Will’s slowly opening body sang in the quiet of the room. Will’s breathy pants and moans resonated loudly, and Hannibal briefly thought of how he wished he had neighbors so they could enjoy the sounds of his boy being so thoroughly pleasured. 

“What do you want, dear boy?” Hannibal wiped his hand on Will’s thigh and slowly began undressing. Layer after layer peeled away until he was slipping his feet out of his pant leg and prowling over Will. 

“You,” Will answered, his voice on edge with his pleasure. “Just you.” 

Hannibal pinched his thigh, drawing a sharp cry from the boy as he lay back thoroughly debauched. Hannibal surveyed the scene with satisfaction…his Will splayed along the sheets, hair in disarray, a beautiful blush spread over his neck and chest. His hips up and waiting for Hannibal, his entrance stretched and leaking lube. 

Hannibal poured more lube over his hand and gave his cock a few strokes. He lined up the head of his cock with Will’s entrance and pressed just the head inside.

“Are you ok my dear boy?”

Will nodded and squirmed back on Hannibal’s cock in answer. 

Hannibal pressed his knees to his chest, fully opening him in a beautiful spread. He draped himself over his boy as he pressed into him, smothering his startled cry with the heat of his mouth. 

Will was almost unbearably hot and tight, and it took a moment for Hannibal to fully seat himself. Will’s intake of breath when he bottomed out was kissed away, and soon Will was grabbing at Hannibal’s shoulders, urging him to move. 

Hannibal fucked into him in slow, smooth strokes, relishing the way Will’s body seemed hungry for him. He buried his face in his shoulder, his hair, raining kisses down on his precious boy. 

Will moaned, arching up to get friction on his cock, relishing the way Hannibal’s chest hair tickled his skin. He ran his hand down over it, marveling at the strong shoulders wide chest as Hannibal moved within him.

Hannibal adjusted the angle of his thrust, speeding up as his boy became more acclimated to being filled, and felt it as he hit Will’s prostate. 

Will moaned loudly, his legs wrapping around Hannibal in a tight embrace. “More,” he managed. “There.” 

“Yes, my love,” Hannibal whispered as he drove into him. “Right there.” 

Will’s body felt tightly wound all the way to his toes, and he arched into Hannibal, meeting his thrusts. He was panting, felt weightless and heavy all at the same time, his eyes whiting at the edges. 

“So close,” he uttered between thrusts, and Hannibal snuck a hand between them to work his cock. The boy tightened his grip on him, legs like a vice, and Hannibal worked his body until he was spilling between them. 

“Oh God, oh God,” Will gasped as Hannibal continued to fuck into him, the boy’s tight body clenching around his cock. He was still coming down from his high when Hannibal spilled into him with a groan, Will’s hole milking him until he collapsed on top of him, nuzzling his hair. 

Sweat and come slicked their bodies. Hannibal pressed kisses into Will’s sweet flesh until he softened and slipped out of him with a soft laugh. Will turned, lying on his side facing him. 

“What are you thinking about,” Hannibal said in the stillness. 

Will gave a full-body stretch, wincing at the residual soreness but reveling in it, too. “How this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he said quietly, then a wicked smile twisted his lips. “And how you’re probably lying in cake right now.” 

Hannibal shifted, and indeed he was lying in cake. He rolled over to clean it up, but Will stopped him. “Let me,” he said softly as he licked the spot of cake where it lay staining Hannibal’s hip.

Hannibal’s smile was broad and genuine. He stroked Will’s hair. “We both need a shower.” 

Will hummed, licking his lips. “Yes,” he said. 

Hannibal pulled him up in bed to lie on top of him, kissing each of his fingers. “Are you still going to see me, after you get your license?” 

Will smiled. “Yes.” 

“Are you still going to let me help you with your homework?” 

“Yes,” he said, laughing as Hannibal continued to nibble his fingers. 

Hannibal stopped, his lips to Will’s palm as he regarded him. “Do you love me as I love you? Deeply and without hesitation?”

“Yes,” Will breathed, legs on either side of Hannibal’s chest. He reached the discarded plate and pinched off a piece of cake to feed it to Hannibal. Hannibal grinned. 

“I feel like we just got married,” he said, slightly giddy. 

“Yes,” Will said, and silenced him with a kiss.

-0-0-0-


End file.
